I didn’t want to take the picture of the vibrant yellow building. It was so darn bright—both the color of the building and the color of the day. The sun shone full force but it was chilly as the wind whipped around my bare legs while I studied how to best take the picture.
I didn’t want to take the picture of the Abundant Life Church. The orange clay seemed all wrong. Not fertile ground for an abundant life. That dirt red clay reminded me of my struggle with the teachings of my small town Southern Baptist upbringing.
I didn’t want to take the picture of the silos, because well . . . it’s silos. I’ve lost or maybe just passed through my joy over taking pictures of barns and silos. Still, I climbed the roadside bank and squatted low to make the picture through the wispy yellow flowers. When I got home I tried to look up their name. I think it’s St. Johnswort, though I can’t be sure. I can say that the scene reminded me of my mother who taught me how to be good at making bouquets from roadside flowers.
I didn’t want to take the picture of the pink magnolia blossoms. I was trying to take a picture of something else and they just happened to be near. I took them to relieve the pressure of trying so hard.
There are days to walk away and put the camera aside. And there are days to press on. To trust that my creative spirit is growing even when I seem to be dormant.